


Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks)

by good_ho_mens



Series: DC One-offs [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Attempt at Humor, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Fluff, Gen, Good Friend/Sibling Stephanie Brown, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Good Sibling Duke Thomas, Jason Todd is a good brother, Sibling Bonding, Tim Drake is Tired of His Siblings But He Loves Them Very Much, like so small, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.Dammit.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Tim Drake
Series: DC One-offs [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623775
Comments: 24
Kudos: 473





	Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks)

Tim would like to officially state for the record that this was not his idea. He was planning on a nice weekend alone, overworking, drinking too much Red Bull, giving himself scoliosis by hunching over his laptop, all those fun things.

Really, he should just stop answering his door. What good comes from it anyway? It’s either some salesperson (likely), someone there to preach to him about the values of the human soul (less likely, this is Gotham), a Rogue (very likely), or, in this case, one of his siblings.

At least Damian had the decency to knock.

Tim would’ve guessed he’d come through the window, but the kid stomps inside in civvies, barely glancing at Tim as he brushes past. His arms are crossed and his nose and ears are slightly red tinted from the cold. 

“Every day I regret coming to Gotham and meeting father,” he says as he sits himself down on Tim’s couch.

Tim blinks past his open front door for a second, and then shuts it. 

Sure, why not. 

He sighs and pulls a blanket out of the coat closet by the door and throws it at Damian’s face. He’s not pacing or ranting, and he pushed the mug sitting precariously at the edge of the coffee table back to a safe spot, so he’s not actually having a life crisis.

Small win, Tim supposes, as he fills his tea kettle and sets it on the stove. It’s one of the only actual cooking utensils he has in his kitchen. Because he’s rich and useless, but he was also raised in Alfred’s household, so.

“Hot chocolate or tea?”

“Do you have Chai?”

“Loose leaf or bagged?”

“Loose. Obviously.”

Tim hums, pulling the tin out of the cabinet. “Need help buying a plane ticket?”

“Yes,” Damian says. He shakes out the blanket forcefully and tugs it around himself. “First class. As far away as possible. Would that be the South Pole?”

“Somewhere between Australia and Africa, I think.”

“Africa, please. Plenty of wildlife.”

Snorting, Tim nods, “Sure, one way ticket?”

“Yes. You’ll have to have my luggage shipped.” Damian turns to cross his arms over the back of the couch, watching as Tim fumbles with the wire tea infuser. He tips his head so his cheek is pressed against his forearm. “Could Alfred and Titus come with me?”

“I mean, sure, but dogs and cats thrive in familiar settings. Have Titus and Alfred even been to Ohio?”

_ “Ohio?” _

Tim shrugs, “Weird example, but sure.”

“Why would anyone go to Ohio?”

“Football hall of fame?”

“Do I strike you as someone who cares about brutish western traditions?”

“Next time you see Hal, say that to his face. I’ll take your Crime Alley shift for a month.”

Damian scoffs, lips quirking up at the corners. His eyes move slowly, following along to Tim’s equally steady movements, lifting the hot kettle from the stove. “If it will cause Alfred and Titus stress, I suppose you may hold off on the flight. At least until I take them to Ohio.”

“Are you  _ ever _ going to go to Ohio?” Tim asks lightly, smiling over his shoulder and almost burning his hand in the process.

“No,” Damian says dismissively. Tim is sure he smiles back once he turns around. 

“You gonna tell me what deal breaking thing Bruce did?”

“Mrs. Ally sent me home with a permission slip for a field trip.”

“Bruce didn’t sign it?”

“He did.”

“Oh.” Tim fights a smile, turning to look at Damian again as he drops the diffuser into his mug. “What’s the field trip? Something kiddie?”

Damian sighs deeply and switches to propping his cheek on his hand, elbow braced against the top of the couch. “Wayne Enterprises.”

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

Tim grins, eyes lighting up. When his secretary had told him he’d have to talk to a school group the following Tuesday, he’d figured it would be a high school or some freshman college students looking for intern opportunities. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it could be Damian’s sixth grade class.

“Really?” he asks slowly, definitely calm.

Damian glares at him, “Are you going to embarrass me?”

“Yes.”

_ “Timothy.” _

Tim watches his little brother flop back onto the couch, legs kicking into the air with his momentum, and something like euphoria fills him. He laughs, and waves a hand, “How about this; you deal with my incredibly embarrassing speech and proud big brother talk, and after I’ll let you hide in my office for the rest of the trip.”

Damian is quiet for a second, and then says, “Will you order vegetarian sushi?”

“Obviously.”

“Deal.”

No, this isn’t the part he didn’t sign up for. He doesn’t mind spending time with Damian, he actually enjoys it, now that they aren’t trying to kill each other anymore. He’s found that Damian is actually pretty funny, and he never pushes for active social interaction.

It’s not unusual for Damian to break into his apartment with a book, and sit on the couch to read while Tim works at the dining table. It’s just companionable, most of the time.

Tim passes Damian a mug of tea, and he doesn’t mind that he’s sitting on his couch and interrupting his weekend. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Damian rolls his eyes, but blows on the tea anyway. “Are you working on a case?”

“Yeah, those high end diamonds, the ones we figured Selina stole?”

“On brand for her.”

“Right, except she called Bruce yesterday morning and asked him who stole her scheme out from under her. Then last week, some guy telling riddles robbed a bank.”

“Nygma?”

“Iron Heights for the past month.”

“Copycat,” Damian says in distaste. He looks down at the cup in his hands with an approving hum, “How much sugar?”

“Eight cubes, Willy Wonka.”

“No matter how many times you and Richard say that, I still don’t understand.”

“Maybe you should actually let us show you the movie then.”

“No.”

See, this? This is fine. It’s actually pretty good. Damian doesn’t even make fun of him when he goes to get another Red Bull. He just sort of… glares, until Tim feels self conscious enough to grab another tea mug instead.

Having Damian around is nice, Tim can still get work done, can still focus. Now he just has a pretty smart eleven year old to bounce ideas off of if he needs it. Also, Damian reminds him to actually eat food without being all smothering about it.

Damian’s company is nice. It’s calm. He likes it.

His bedroom door opens with a bang and Jason stumbles through in full tactical gear, wiping what has to be motorcycle grease off his forehead. “Your fire escape is broken.”

Jason’s company, on the other hand.

“Before or after you climbed up it?” Tim asks, and then furrows his eyebrows, “How did you even get in?”

“How could you ask that?” Jason shoots back, like it’s offensive, and not because Tim has thirty two security programs that lock down all the entrances and exits of his bedroom in case he needs it to double as a safe room. Twenty one of which were armed when he apparently got in through the window.

Damian blows on his tea, watching Jason over the rim of his mug, “What are you doing here?”

There’s a split second where Jason stalls, arms half raised to shuck his jacket off, and then he restarts, chucking the heavy leather garment to a nearby chair. “Bored.”

“I see,” Damian says slowly. He points at his cup, “Tea?”

Okay, so not exactly what Tim would prefer. He loves Jason, he does, but it’s hard to do anything serious when he’s around, unless he’s in work mode, but Tim doesn’t have the energy for that either. Only Jason is already snapping his fingers and nodding at Damian’s question, so Tim figures he’ll work with it.

He’s making himself tea anyway, so he just pulls out another mug and sets it alongside his. “Chai?”

“Gross. You got any of that basic blonde shit?”

“Chamomile?”

“Hell yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes and pulls the box out, picking at the plastic wrap around the unopened package, listening absently to his brothers.

“Thought you’d be halfway across the world by now, kid.”

“I can’t go to Africa. It would make Titus nervous, and Alfred would become irritable.”

“Which one?”

A pause, Damian considers it. “Both.”

Jason snorts, and Tim glances back to see him drop into the armchair across the coffee table from Damian. “Hey, he made me go on all those field trips when I was younger too. But trust me, nothing Timmy could do is as bad as the time Bruce called me honey in front of my whole tenth grade class and wiped a dirt smudge off my cheek with his thumb.”

Damian must make a disgusted face, because Jason says, “Yeah. My worst childhood trauma right there.”

Tim does laugh at that. Jason’s trauma jokes are a lot funnier now that they don’t include severing his carotid artery. He picks up the roll of paper towels from above the sink and throws it over his shoulder, hitting Jason square in the chest. “Well, you’ve got some grime on your face now,  _ honey. _ I’m not wiping it off for you, though.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says while Damian chokes into his tea.

He finishes the tea and carries them both carefully over to the couch, passing Jason his before he plops down next to Damian, who throws the corner of his blanket over one of Tim’s legs in a halfhearted attempt.

“There’s a copycat running around,” Damian says conversationally. 

“Those diamonds?”

“And the bank, last week.”

Tim folds his legs under him and nods, “Whoever they are, they haven’t killed anyone. I’m more worried about what the Rogues will do to them and their loved ones when they realize someone’s stealing their shtick.”

“Small time criminals are idiots.”

Damian sips his tea a little too loudly, face open and innocent as he says, “Maybe he’ll put some heads in a duffel bag next.”

Jason slides down in his armchair to kick at Damian’s legs.

Tim thinks he can handle this. Usually, when Jason comes over, he talks for a little bit to be friendly, and then finally gets around to asking for help or just straight up passes out on Tim’s couch. Either way, it doesn’t take long, and after he’s settled Tim can get back to the W.E work on his laptop that his fingers have been itching for.

Obviously, the world hates him. Someone knocks on his door again.

Damian and Jason both stiffen, but Tim just gets up with a sigh, cradling his tea to his chest. If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

With a sigh, Tim steps to the side, letting Dick march past him.

He follows him to the living room, where his three brothers all look a little more awkward than they usually do when they hang out. 

“Hey,” Dick repeats.

Jason waves shortly, “Sup.”

“Richard,” Damian greets, eyes on his tea flavored sugar.

“Okay,” Tim says slowly. “Dick, you want some tea?”

Recovering, Dick smiles, dropping into the second armchair. “Nah, I’m good. Had a coffee on the way here.”

“Cool.” Tim runs his tongue along his teeth, sits back down. “Did you need something?”

“What? Oh, no. Just…” Dick glances at Damian, then Jason. “...in the neighborhood.”

“There’s a copycat in Gotham,” Jason says after a pregnant silence.

Dick tilts his head, “Bank robbery last week?”

“And the diamonds.”

“Timothy is worried about the copycat’s well being.”

Timothy is actually worried about his siblings' sanity. He sits back, flicking his eyes between them all. Eventually, he lets it go. They’ve been weirder before. “How’d that drug bust go?”

“Good! Your evidence was crazy helpful. Ended up getting almost half the ring leaders.” Dick turns to Jason, “The rest of them ran, probably Gotham. I’d watch your territory closer for some new dealers in the next couple weeks.”

“Why do you always leave me with your problems?”

“I don’t always leave you with my problems.”

“Bruce,” Jason says, counting off on his fingers. He stops, dropping his hand, apparently that was the whole list. Dick sticks his tongue out.

Next to him, Damian leans over to look into Tim’s barely touched tea. He grabs his wrist and tugs it towards him, taking a sip and then shaking his head. “That’s unbelievably bitter.”

“Okay, Willy Wonka,” Dick says.

Jason laces his fingers behind his head, “You still haven’t seen that, have you, squirt?”

“I don’t see the point.”

“For fun!”

“What does a man who looks like a horrible mixture of the Onceler and a flapper girl have to do with fun?”

Over the gasps of his older brothers, Tim says, “I mean, a bratty kid gets turned into a blueberry.”

Jason snorts and leans over his knees as he laughs, and Damian stares at him with wide eyes, eyebrows lowered, “How is  _ that _ supposed to convince me?”

“Comedy gold,” Jason says, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “I wish I could turn children into blueberries.”

“The first time you watched it you cried,” Dick says happily. Jason gasps. 

Damian grins wolfishly, “Explain.”

“Basically, Jason is super empathetic--”

“I am tall enough to drop kick you now, that’s what I am.”

“Jason, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of pathetic little babies cry.”

“I literally hate both of you.”

Dick smacks his hand against his chest like he was shot, “Just kill me for real, why don’t you?”

“Bitch I might.”

“Jay!”

Alright, so Tim can handle Dick. He’ll probably start cleaning soon, because he’s a busy body, but Tim’s apartment could use tidying anyway. He sips his tea and finds he doesn’t mind this.

The window above the kitchen sink creaks open, and Tim turns in time to see Cass slip through, wearing black leggings and a hoodie that’s definitely Dick’s. She lands on the tile floor, and makes a face when she sees four sets of eyes staring back at her.

“You’re all here,” she says. “Okay.”

“Is there a party at my house no one told me about?” Tim asks tiredly.

“Cassandra! Thank god I won’t be the only sane one here,” Damian says, a little hurriedly. He takes Jason’s tea from him, ignoring his protests, and holds it out to Cass, “Tea?”

Cass smiles and walks softly over to them, taking the tea and vaulting over the couch in one graceful movement. She makes her way over to Jason, and he smirks, holding his hand out for his tea, but Cass turns and sits down on the arm of his chair, hugging the mug close to her. “Mine now.”

“Rude!”

Regarding him critically, Cass sighs, leaning so her ribs hit Jason’s shoulder. She wraps an arm around his neck while he snakes an arm around her waist. “Share?”

Jason shrugs, “Sure.”

“You don’t share food with me,” Dick points out.

“That’s because you all are nasty as fuck.”

“I brush my teeth every day! What are you talking about!”

“Ignore him,” Tim says with a smirk, “he’s saying he had his mouth washed out with soap so much as a kid it’s as clean as Alfred’s oven.”

“Asshole.”

“Jay! You kiss your butler with that mouth?” Dick asks, mock shocked. Jason looks around to find something to throw at him. He pulls a gun off his waist, but Cass plucks it away before he can send it hurtling at their oldest sibling’s head.

Jason scowls at her, “Dick has a thick skull, he could take it.”

Cass kisses his nose, “No.”

“I believe Jason is right,” Damian says sensibly, “if anyone has strong enough bones to take the barrel of a gun to his head, it would be Richard.”

“It’s the cereal with milk intake,” Tim explains just as sensibly, nodding at the same beat as Damian. “Calcium levels are off the charts.”

“Am I being insulted right now? I can’t tell.”

“It’s the thick skull,” Jason says, matching Tim and Damian’s tone.

“I hate you guys, you suck. Bullies, the lot of you.” Dick sticks out his bottom lip, “Cass, you still love me, right?”

“Always,” Cass says, blowing him a kiss. She waits a beat. “Thick skull included.”

“You wound me. Truly. I’ve been dealt a mortal blow.”

No one hears him over their laughter.

Alright. Not ideal. His laptop is in his office, and the odds of him being able to go get it without one of his siblings following him is close to zero. And if they follow him, they’ll see the clutter of case files and evidence boards lining the walls and interpret it as a “call for help”, which is ridiculous. 

Tim’s siblings are entertaining, sure, but he really does need to get some work done.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “Listen, guys, I was really just hoping to catch up on--”

Someone knocks on his door. Tim closes his eyes for a long second as Dick jumps up to open it.

Please let it be a Rogue. Please let it be Poison Ivy here to deal him a dosage of sleep plant toxin to make him sleep for ten years. Please let it be a Rogue. He’ll even take the god worshiping conspiracy theorists if they’ll somehow convince his siblings to leave him to his work. Indoctrinate them into a religious pyramid scheme or something, Tim will save them later.

“Oh. What’s up, Dick,” Duke says from the door.

What the hell.

“Duke! What are you doing here?”

“I was just… wanting to ask Tim about a case?”

A case! Help! Tim can do that. He sets his tea down and jumps up to crouch on the cushions, facing towards the door. “What do you need?”

Duke stares at him, and it’s then that Tim realizes the seven casserole dishes stacked in his arms. “Uh.”

“Let me help you with that!” Dick announces loudly, taking half the stack and marching stiffly to the kitchen. 

Tim narrows his eyes as Duke follows, turns to look at Jason and Cass, who are doing a bad job at pretending they’re having a conversation in ASL. Jason keeps flipping the bird instead of using actual signs, and Cass is looking at his face, not his hands. He looks down at Damian, who seems to think comparing the colors of Tim’s tea and his is very interesting.

“Jokes out, guys,” he tells them. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

It takes approximately four seconds of glaring for Dick to break, which is just a tiny bit pathetic, considering who their dad is.

“Alfred and Bruce were worried about you, you haven’t come around the manor in a while.” Dick rubs the back of his neck, “So Alf asked one of us to come check on you.”

_ “One _ of you.”

“Hence the surprise,” Damian says, crossing his arms. “For the record, I showed up first, which makes me superior.”

“Or it makes you a literal eleven year old with no social life.”

“I will send your face through the coffee table, Jason.”

For the record, Tim didn’t sign up for this. He sighs, and if it’s a little loud and overdramatic, so what? This is his house, he is allowed. “So all of you came to check on me, not to rant about field trips, or because you were bored, or in the neighborhood, or on a case.”

“I would have talked to you about the field trip anyway,” Damian says defensively, “I may have been planning to call you about it at first, but that’s besides the point.”

“Technically, I was in the neighborhood,” Dick says, raising a finger.

“And I  _ was _ actually bored.”

Tim looks at Duke expectantly. He snorts, “Nah, mine was a total lie.”

Great. Tim sits down heavily. “So the plan was to come over and annoy me as a way to make me feel better or something?”

“Pretty much?”

“I’m not annoying.”

“The annoying you part was just a bonus.”

Cass shrugs at him, “You love me.”

“I actually suggested we go tp dirty cops houses,” Duke says, attempting to shove a casserole dish into the fridge, “but Bruce said no.”

Duke is officially his favorite. That idea sounds awesome. He turns on the couch so he’s facing him more, “You got a list? We can always go later.”

“Man, hang out with me more. Dick and Damian said no, and Jason just suggested we shoot them. Not helpful.”

“I mean, we could bring water guns. Wet toilet paper is a lot harder to clean up.”

“I love you. Did you know that? I love you so much.”

Tim laughs, tapping his lukewarm mug. “Why so much food?”

Sighing as he attempts to shove the second casserole dish inside the fridge, Duke shrugs, “Alfred. Thinks you’re starving or some shit. I can see the Poptarts in your pantry though, so obviously he has nothing to worry about.”

“You do this thing where I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic,” Dick says, but he opens the cupboard and takes out a Poptart happily. Jason makes grabby hands and Dick tosses him a package too.

Vultures, the lot of them.

Tim hates his life. Please leave him alone for three seconds. “I need to get some work done now, so--”

“We just got here!” Dick protests, something like steel under his whiny tone. Which means stubborn, and no way out for Tim until he can figure out a way to distract them. 

Before Tim can start brainstorming his no doubt incredibly smart plan, a shadow lands on his balcony. He turns resolutely on the couch to stare at the wall above Jason’s head. “If I don’t look, no one is there.”

The balcony door creaks open, “Tim! Get your ass-- oh. Hey guys.”

“Sup, Steph,” Duke greets.

Tim does not see it. No one is there.

Stephanie clears her throat awkwardly, “I was just, uh, you know, around. Just--”

“He knows,” Cass says. 

Tim pinches his nose, “I can’t believe all of you are crowding my apartment right now.”

“But your favorite just got here,” Steph says, “so it’s all good, right?”

And like, yeah, but also no.

After a few seconds, Dick says, “So... there’s a copycat running around Gotham.”

“Diamonds?” Duke asks.

Stephanie hums, “Wasn’t it that bank robbery?”

Tim drops his head into his hands.

He keeps repeating it in his head. He loves his siblings. He loves them. He is not going to throw them off the penthouse. He loves them.

If he shows his love by stabbing them with forks, so what? Damian went through that phase, why can’t Tim? He’s a complex person who is allowed to show affection through violence.

“I appreciate the concern,” he starts calmly, not moving his hands, “but I have a lot of work to get done today so--”

“No.”

Tim drops his hands to give Stephanie a very unimpressed look. Not at all impressed. “Yes.”

“No.”

“I do.”

“Legally, that’s incorrect.”

“What does that even mean, ‘legally’?”

“It means what I said.” Stephanie brushes off the front of her shirt, “Word is law, and all that.”

_ “Legally, _ in the actual legal meaning of the word in the dictionary, all of you are trespassing and I could call the cops.”

Stephanie smiles smugly at him, dropping her hands on her hips. “Bruce said you have to take the day off.”

That is not going to work on Tim. He is an emancipated minor and he is capable of making his own choices. Bruce can’t make him do anything. 

He sighs and slumps back against the couch. “Alright.”

_ Dammit. _

Damian scoots closer to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. When Tim looks down, he’s glaring at the wall. “You cannot blame us for worrying.”

Tim blinks and looks around at the rest of them, lounging around his apartment, and thinks, no, he really can’t. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, dropping a hand on top of Damian’s head.

His weekend was supposed to be quiet, and filled with his own thoughts, but hey, so was his life.

Tim thinks that maybe he doesn’t actually like the silence, but he’s just not used to having other options.

Dick ruffles his hair as he passes, and Duke says something about how his fridge is too small, and Stephanie sits on his other side and starts talking to Damian about her first field trip. Jason and Cass are having an actual ASL conversation now, with Duke somehow chiming in from the kitchen. Dick starts to clean.

For the record, Tim didn’t sign up for this.

He’s glad they signed up for him.


End file.
